BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Yes… “STAFF” infection, NOT Staph Infection. That was what the monstrous, hyper-infectious, killer strain of “walking death influenza” was dubbed at this years Samhain Florida Pagan Gathering. Primarily, because patient zero infected several members of the festival staff, who then unwittingly shared it with other staff, then attendees, then speakers, etc. I just happened to be one of the lucky masses to be infected with extreme prejudice. Somewhere around late morning on Friday last I started feeling like crap. By that evening, I was pretty much laid up with a fever and hacking cough that was threatening to send one or both of my lungs flying across the room at supersonic speed. Not a good thing.

Even so, a good time was had. I bunked in with Dorothy Morrison and her husband Mark on one side of the cabin, along with my wife (Evil Kat) and my offspring. On the other side of the cabin was my dear friend Kristin Madden and her son Karl, as well as another set of great buds, Z and Hardee. Even with the attack of the “Staff Infection”, we still got to visit and have a great time. I had a chance to visit with another dear friend, Chuck Cook. Unfortunately, his wife and kids weren’t able to make it this go around, but hopefully we will catch up with them in the not too distant future. I also got to visit with, and even square dance with, my old friend Ann Moura. And, of course, I spent some time with my buds John & Brandie (aka THAT Moonfire!) and their crew. To top it off, I got to meet and kibbitz with Kirk White, an author I had heretofore only known via email.

The fest was well attended, as usual- rumor has it they even broke a record. The workshops were great and we all signed tons of books for festivalgoers. Other than the staff infection I only had two regrets – one being that Paul, our beloved guardian and firetender was not present, as he had just had surgery to remove a brain tumor. Fortunately, we received news that he is doing great, healing quicker than expected, and that the tumor turned out to be completely benign! (Yay!!) So, I’m looking forward to seeing him next go around. Just to make things right, however, someone produced a life size cutout picture of Paul’s face, and we all had pictures taken with it in groups, individually, at at various events throughout the fest so that he could be there with us, even if he wasn’t. My other regret would be that I didn’t get to make my annual pilgrimage down to Rowangrove, which is Druydess’s camp. She’s a lovely gal, tremendous hostess, and her whole crew is a blast to hang with. Every year I make sure to stop by for a few drinks and an hour or two of intelligent, witty, innuendo filled banter. Unfortunately, being laid up with the “infection” I was in no condition to drink, I wasn’t particularly witty- nor intelligent- and I would have hated to spread the virus any farther than it had already gone.

So, FPG was a blast, even with the infection and regrets. I do feel it a moral imperative to say the following- Rayne, of guest services was fantastic! She took care of us like you wouldn’t believe, making sure that we had our cabin cooler filled with goodies and ice, extra blankets (yeah, there was actually a cold snap in Florida, can you believe it?), food, etc. She even had her minions cart our cases of books back and forth between the cabin and tables. As far as we were concerned, she was the Guest Services Goddess! And, as wonderful as the rest of the staff was and is, I also must single out my favorite Guardian, Trauma. She is an absolute sweetheart, and she saw to it that I was well taken care of from the medical standpoint. (Of course, prior to becoming infected, she also tagged me with her infamous “Flaming Dr. Pepper”, but that’s a whole ‘nother story…)

Now…On to some other stuff…That being, “Nasty Rumors”…

When filling out my speaker info packet for FPG, as a joke I put a few notes under “special requirements”… The notes were something to the effect that Dorothy Morrison was old and decrepit and would require a wheelchair. I also added that Kristin Madden is a whiny diva who would demand that she get anything Morrison got, and therefore they should have one for her too.

Now…The staff of FPG knows us well, and they knew this was a joke. They posted it on their official website, as a joke. Some of you may even remember Dorothy, Kristin, and me blogging back and forth at one another about this, and generally having a great time with it.

Unfortunately, someone who doesn’t know us read the blurb on the FPG site, and took offense. They felt that Kristin was being seriously disrespected, and were worried that Dorothy was on her deathbed.

So…Let us quell the rumors. Dorothy Morrison is like my big sister. Kristin Madden is like my little sister. Yeah, I’m the middle child…guess that explains it, eh? (Grin)….Either way, we pick back and forth at one another all the time. It is all good natured fun, and it is how we interact. If you see us in person, all together, you will see one hell of a show. And, if I do say so myself, we are pretty damned entertaining– Well, we amuse ourselves, so hey, what more can we ask… Suffice it to say, there was no disrespect toward Kristin “Don’t Call Me Kirsten” Madden, nor is Dorothy “Older Than Dirt” Morrison in ill health. It was just us kids joking around with one another. End of story.

Trust me, if we ever get mad at one another you won’t see us bickering. There will just be three smoking holes left where we each once stood. But, I can pretty much guarantee you that such will never happen, so no worries there.

Okay, I need to go check on Evil Kat since she is now dealing with the Staff Infection. I’ll leave you with a few pictures…

Thought I was kidding about the square dancing, didn’t you?

More to come…

Murv

Or, so she would have you all believe…

Now, before you die hard “Morrisonites” go nuts and threaten to burn me at the stake, read on, digest the evidence, and THEN make your decision. I suspect you will reach the same conclusion as I.

Now, to understand exactly WHY I am calling her friendship into question, we must begin with Chicken and Dumplings. Why Chicken and Dumplings you ask? Well, for starters, C&D’s are pretty darned good. Especially to folks who are Southerners like Morrison and me. C&D’s that aren’t totally screwed up (i.e. all mushy and gloopy) are comfort food to the Southern palate. They harken back to mama’s kitchen, the big cast iron kettle on the stove, and the wonderful and peppery aroma of stewed hens fresh from the yard combined with the tender and flavorful dumplings that have simmered in the lovely juices. (Damn…now I want a plate of them…*wistful sigh*)

But, to continue, they are a meal that sticks with you for just the right amount of time– they warm you and they even carry the right combination of enzymes to make you feel better when you have a cold. In short, they are one of the most perfect foods on the face of the earth.

Where the hell am I going with this? Read on…

Now, there is something else you should know about Chicken and Dumplings. If you pull into any Cracker Barrel in the United States, they will have a big ol’ pot of C&D’s simmering away in the kitchen. Now, while it is romantic to think they have a replica of mama’s kitchen back there, complete with the cast iron pot, I know better. It is a commercial kitchen, and the C&D’s are more than likely bubbling away in a big stainless steel stock pot, or in a tray on a steam table. But, that’s okay. They learned how to make C&D’s the right way. I even watched a show on Food Network where they talked about learning how to do it properly from a Southern Gramma, so there you go. All I can say is that I’ve had them on countless occasions, and they are VERY good. Damn near the way mama (and, my Grandaddy Babb, who owned a diner in Fulton, KY where I’m from) used to make ’em.

And, of course the point above is that they are already on the stove…What does this mean? Simple – Pull into a Cracker Barrel, and if you’re in a hurry, order the Chicken and Dumplings. They’ll be in front of you FAST, they’ll be good and filling, and you’ll be back on the road in no time.

I know, you still have no clue why it is that I think Morrison is actually evil and out to get me…Keep reading, you’ll understand soon…

So, as you all know Morrison and I tour together quite a lot. And, as I have talked about in the past, book tours encompass many modes of transportation. One of the primaries, however, is still the good old automobile. So, this means that be it my truck, her Jeep, or even a rental car, we cruise the highways and byways of the U.S. much like Tod and Buzz on Route 66. (Yeah, I’m dating myself again, but that’s not the point here…)

Now, being hard working authors, we get hungry. Powerful hungry in fact. Meaning, we need to eat. However, you must remember that there are times when we are doing multiple stores in multiple cities all in one day. So, we are doing a lot of driving and rushing about to get to places on time. Stopping to eat requires that it be QUICK, reasonable, and since we both like for it to be at least halfway decent, Cracker Barrel has literally become the “Official On The Road Restaurant of all Morrison-Sellars Book Tours”… Now, THEY might not know this, but we do…(Hmmmm…maybe we should tell them…That way maybe we’d get some kind of endorsement contract or something…Maybe even some free Chicken and Dumplings…)

Anyway, now I am digressing…

So, here’s the thing. Whenever we stop at Cracker Barrel, since the Chicken and Dumplings are so quick to be had, this allows Morrison an opportunity to shop (let me tell you, this is something she does like a maniac. It’s just plain frightening)…Anyway, so she shops in the “Country Store”…Thus far, she hasn’t forced me to strap a rocking chair to the hood of the vehicle or anything, but she has actually done far worse…

You see, the folks at Cracker Barrel sell some pretty odd crap. Everything from the nostalgic candies of my youth to John Deere hats. However, they also sell silly mechanical noisemaking animatronic bizarro holiday oriented thingywhatsits.

AHA! Now we have the evidence!

Yes. Morrison, being the good “Aunt” to my child that she is, has found it necessary on such occasions to purchase, for my child, these bizarro animatronic whatsits.

We currently have a Parrot which digitally records 5 seconds of sound, then morphs it through filters and replays it not once, but three times in succession at high pitch, high volume, and high speed. However, the thingywhatsit that triggered this particular blog is this:

This damn Easter frog thingywhatsit is currently sitting in a chair in my dining room. As you can see, it ain’t exactly small. On top of that, it is wired with both sound and motion sensors. Now, the thing about these sensors is that they are selectively operating sensors. What this means is that if you for some reason, (like you’ve had a few too many and have lost your mind) actually want to show someone how it works, you can jump up and down in front of it, shout, clap, and even fire a gun next to its friggin’ head and it will just stand there staring at you. (and yes, I’ve always checked to make sure it is switched on.) However, if it just happens that someone’s cell phone rings three blocks away, or a drosophila melanogaster (aka fruit fly) flies past the window, this freakin’ thing starts waving its arms and babbling in a high-pitched, childlike voice- It’s the best Easter ever! Time for an Easter egg hunt! It’s Easter time! Hooray for Easter! ad nauseum…

And that, my dear friends is why I am convinced that Morrison is not really my friend, but actually someone sent by a foreign espionage type agency on a mission to drive me insane.

And, you know what else? I think Kristin Madden is her partner.

Murv